Goosebumps and tears
continue to wave and well,
the spirit of humanity revealed
lightens a pessimist’s sad heart.
A peace-fueled march by millions
in cities the world round,
a fire ironically ignited
with logs split by divisiveness.
Our previous detachment
keeps power
in hands of the few;
no longer 1950,
the planet’s different now,
we need to start anew.
Faces of all shapes, colors,
genders, ages,
unknown fellow citizens
toting children
oddly well behaved
in a slow shuffle,
the streets too packed
for faster pace,
a steady reminder that
changing course
en masse
is never rapid.
As if in prayer,
a weird quiet
settles over the awed,
soon washed away
by chants, cheers, music
on blocks and blocks
behind and beyond.
Soul refreshed,
legs weak and voice tired,
nursed by a hot bath and
small-batch bourbon
a double
served in a large rocks glass,
on a single block of ice
made on a street nearby
in a shadowy town that worships
power, booze, connections.
Through my steamy haze,
I can still hear
our words echoing off the
Washington Memorial:
“This is what democracy looks like.”
#womensmarch #democracy #bourbon (at The Mall (Washington DC))